Booked and other tales
by DaBraxMan
Summary: Booker has been shy ever since he was a puppy. But when he meets a justice-oriented friend in camp, they both learn some things about themselves through their adventure.
1. Faceless

A/N

Howdy! The name's Ethan. I write stuff. And I've challenged myself to write a oneshot for Animal Crossing. Blanca doesn't get enough appreciation...so here she is.

Review if you feel like it. If you don't like my stories, I'll still hope to keep coming back like Kidz Bop CDs. How many of them ARE there?!

Yeah, and I'll put the truly unneeded and obviously true disclaimer here.

- I don't claim ownership of the Animal Crossing series, or the characters, content, and story. These belong to Nintendo. This is fan submission, meaning some or all information I write is non-canon, and is not endorsed or supported entirely by Nintendo. I gain no profit from writing these stories, nor do I intend to. -

There. Now...

ON TO THE STORY!

FACELESS

A white cat with a particularly peculiar face looked in the restroom mirror, angry at the last person who "helped" her. Her left eye was bigger than her right, her mouth had fangs, her nose was large and red, and she looked like a freak...thanks to her "helper." Her "helpers" thought she was a joke, a little gimmick to add fun to humans' train rides. As much as she insisted that she was a normal individual and pleaded that her "helpers" wouldn't speak of her to anyone at all, they disobeyed her and spoke of her...and fame spread quickly.

She washed her drawn face off in the shabby train station restroom, revealing a white, furry, blank face. Nothing. She looked at herself, wondering whether she ought to wear a business suit today just as a joke (after all, a joke was what everyone thought of her, anyway) or just her normal floral dress. She decided on the dress, and boarded the train, getting, yet again, a frightened look from the Porter. She stepped on the train and sat down, wondering where to go next and who her next "helper" would be.

Meanwhile, an old boar with turnips on her back was sleeping. Sleeping heavily, quite frankly. And a blue cat wearing an argyle sweater was beside her, sleeping much more lightly, being repeatedly woken by the whistle of the train that blew whenever the conductor got the urge to do so.

He was awoken by a loud blow of the whistle again. He sat for a while after his awakening, playing some dull games on his old-fashioned cell phone. Rover, the blue cat, was very bored. How he wished some human would come and sit down so he could chat with him. He decided to change seats. The boar's snoring was getting on his nerves.

As he walked the aisle, he saw, through the corner of his eye, a young cat sitting by a window. 'Good enough,' thought he, as he sat in front of the feline, greeting her.

"Hey!" Rover mewed as Blanca snapped away from her daydreamy trance to look at him.

"Say...haven't we met before?" Blanca questioned as she mentally kicked herself for using her female voice. She was used to using a male voice, since everybody knew her to have one since Wild World. But she had gone and done it now...but at least she had known him the longest of almost anyone...albeit not very well.

"Yeaaah...wait! wait! wait! You're...you're...Blanca!" She nodded. "Yesss! Still got it! Score one for the old memory banks! How long's it been? Hey, remember when I drew your face that one time?"

"It's been more than once...uh..."

"Rover."

"Right, Rover..." She remembered when he drew her face. It was years ago, and it wasn't a bad face. It was a tad simple, but at least she didn't look like a gargoyle. He was one of the few to truly draw an attempt at a pretty face...not some horror movie scene dancing on the front of her head.

"Hey," Rover started, "can I draw you a face again? I've gotten much handier with a pen, now!"

"Well...I guess you ought to. Draw a good one, now!" She sighed, as Rover began to draw with his colorful pen. He drew for what felt like hours until finally, he finished. He began to blush, slightly, and laugh a little, which angered Blanca. "Why are you laughing? I'm a gargoyle, aren't I?"

Rover's eyes widened. "N-no! Of course you're n-"

She interrupted and crossed her arms, glaring as much as she could behind her mask. "You know, I'm the one who has to go around town looking like this. I don't see how my misfortune is funny." The train stopped and she stomped out, leaving Rover in deep thought.

She took her pen from her pocket and went to the next shabby restroom. She placed her pen on the sink's bar and looked in the mirror, ready to wash off her expected horror mask-until she saw what he drew.

Her eyes were a deep shade of brown, and her eyelashes curved femininely, as if she wore mascara. Her nose was pink and small, with tiny whiskers protruding from the sides of it. Her mouth was in a white, charming smile, and pink blush danced on her cheeks. Brown bangs fell from her forehead. It was a drawing, but it looked so real. It was far from a horror mask...she looked stunning.

She smiled inwardly, tilting her head at every angle to admire Rover's artwork. She took her pen, turned off the water, and walked outside, truly confident in her looks for the first time in a long while.


	2. Speechless

**A/N**

This isn't exactly a twoshot. This is just another oneshot. Maybe I'll make more, who knows?

It was mentioned by a fellow I've spoken with that this story could expand. So I expanded. With humans expanding everything in AC (except villager count, ugh), it's about time humans got a oneshot here. Not a human. Humans. All of you. Every single one. From Lucy, to Josh, to Bill, to Luke, to any human you ever meet or see in Animal Crossing...they're all written about right here. Because this is a story about you all. All of us.

Wow, this is getting sappy.

Not usually like that.

Anyways...I'm not using any other human OCs. I'm just writing about the human race in AC in general. Lemme know what you guys think. Let the story BEGIN!

* * *

STORY 2: Speechless

In every animal village, there's often a human there. At least one. Sometimes there's four, but never more in one town. No one knows why. Except Resetti. He knew a lot of things. They never really made sense to the poor animals.

Humans are linked to some otherworldly creature, claimed the mole. They're controlled by a "player," or whatever they are. Of course, it isn't exactly control...they share the same will. The same mind. The same heart. Each human and player are different. Some are kind, caring, and helpful to their neighbors. Some are cruel and heartless to everyone and everything around them. Some are a little too obsessive and lay paths everywhere and have everything like it was a tour. Those towns, declared the angry rodent, were nothing to be lived in. Some humans, as mayors, keep towns. Some keep zoos.

Male humans used to always wear those silly little horned caps. They were trying to look adventurous or maybe trying to blend in with cows and goats. Silly humans. What was with those female humans and their dunce caps? Maybe it was supposed to be a fairy-tale hat. Maybe they were adventurers too. They looked kind of silly.

The strangest thing of all is that they are all entirely silent...or usually are, anyway. When their lips move, they hardly ever say a thing. There's a "ding!" sound, and that was it. Sure, animals all love talking to humans...but humans never seem to actually talk back. Well, they kind of do. It's almost like telepathy. Or they nod or shake their heads.

When they catch something or dig up something...or whatever happens to them that was good or bad...they act like they're saying something but...their lips never move. There are some speaking humans in dreams and in the HHA Showcase. Must not be shy anymore after 11, 12 years of painful silence.

Normal, lazy, uchi, and smug villagers love humans. Most saw them as equals. Peppies never used to see eye-to-eye with humans. Neither did snooties. There was always an air of "better-than-you" around peppies and snooties at first. In time, they became less harsh.

Crankies were positive that humans could indeed make noise, and lots of it. Nowadays, they don't care so much, but in some towns...where there are some really cranky folk...humans are so annoying to them it's almost painful to "hear" them. They tell you that they shriek in their ears every morning, but...maybe they just need an enemy. Everyone knows humans are mute...right?

At the end of every day...or every hour or two...maybe fifteen minutes...the human disappears. Sometimes they vanish before the villagers' eyes. Sometimes they to in their house and just never come out again for weeks. Months. Years. Some villagers don't care. Some cry because they think it's their fault.

But when humans come back, they're always ready for new adventures. If there's anything those villagers envy of a human besides their opposable thumbs...it's their dedication. Maybe we could all learn something from the boundless energy of a human.

* * *

So how was it? Got an idea for another AC character oneshot? Review and lemme know! Thanks for reading!


	3. Sliding

Story 3: Sliding

"Hey, thanks for listening. I slipped you a boot of this tune. You can check it out on the box back at your pad. Later." And with that, the human left, and K.K. approached the bar. "Yo, Brewster," crooned the canine, "I need a smooth blend that'll keep me up tonight. I got a new groove in my head I gotta jot down. I'm thinkin' to call it 'Strolling,' but I dunno."

"Drink up...it'll probably be your last...maybe THE last..."

"What? I don't dig. Spit it out, pigeon, you're not makin' sense. Well, it's either that or I'm gettin' dense." K.K. could bust a rhyme anytime. He was smooth with the sound ever since he was a pound. Brewster looked down solemnly and said,

"I'm afraid I'm closing up shop tomorrow...I'm not bringing in enough pay and Blathers has to let me go. I'm sorry..."

"What?!" K.K. repeated, but this time with much more shock. "Are you pullin' my leg or somethin'? This roost is the hippest place around! Is Blathers getting squarer than the building now?"

"Coo...certainly not. We only have four villagers in town, counting the human...and the human and one horse come here to drink...as much as I hate to disappoint...I'm not bringing in enough profits to sustain the shop. I'm sorry. I know everyone loves this place...but sometimes we have to do what's best for those who are most important to us...we can't rob this town with something the town doesn't need...maybe I'll find another town...maybe. You've always been a loner, Totakeke," Brewster cooed. He always referred to K.K. as Totakeke personally, since they were close ever since 2005. "You'll find a place to thrive...and so will I."

"But..." K.K. said, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words. "I've never jammed anywhere better than here! This is MY STAGE. And this is YOUR roost."

"The stage...the roost...the home...all of those is where you put it. If you put it in your heart...you'll always be onstage...always have a roost...always have a home..." Brewster trailed off. "...Totakeke, we may not see each other for a long time...you've...been a friend to me...and it's been an honor. I want you to take this."

Brewster pulled out of his pocket a single, rusty, small dekkoid. "Whoa, dude..." K.K. gasped, his voice cracking. "Your small dekkoid? That was your first gyroid, man. We always talk about it when I jam here. I can't take your most prized-"

"No...the reason I'm giving it to you is because this little clay machine was a symbol of our friendship...not a weekend passed by when we didn't talk about it. Take it. Accept it as...my thanks for...keeping this place...alive for so long." And so Brewster gave K.K. that Gyroid...that clay figure, the robotic toy, the musical masterpiece, the piece of friendship that K.K. would only have besides his memories...and then they hugged.

Four years passed, and Totakeke was playing outside a train station with only a bell to his name. And that bell came from Greta, who thought he was a poor hipster in need of a snack. No one liked his songs anymore. K.K. was so depressed, he wasn't even recognizable. His fur was ragged, his voice was hoarse, and his guitar was out of tune. His paws bled with callouses and his feet were dirty from all of the traveling.

After walking through a Main Street in construction one day, he was offered a fortune cookie by a small Nookling. Starving and in need of advice, K.K. ate it, and almost ate the note. Taking it out of his mouth and trying to read it, he finally figured,

"Music wants to be free, but free isn't free until you let it go."

K.K. pondered this all night. He tossed on the train, he turned on the train. Until finally, it came to him.

Music wants to be free.

He told this to his listeners back when he first played at the Roost, declaring that his music should never be sold. But now, people don't want to listen to music being played on the side of a street when there's no motivation behind the player. If he could just get his music out there again...get HIMSELF out there again...K.K. could bring freedom to the world again. And so, he decided the most unexpected decision he ever made.

"I'm going to sell my music."

"WHOA HO HO HO HO!" Laughed the small human. K.K. went to a popular maestro, Sebastian Tute, for a record deal. But...it wasn't going so well. "You must be joking! You hardly look like a musician...and you sound like a dying synthesizer just talking! And one guitar can't get a full-fledged song in!"

"I know! I used to have songs. I really did. I used to be big! Here, listen to this jam," K.K. pleaded.

"K.K. Blues? Oh, I've heard that one before. I've heard enough. Quite frankly, I think you're better off going home, lad. No money, no talent besides that guitar, no band...I hardly think the Tutes would help you out here. You look like you're finished.

Finished? K.K. was FAR from finished. He was unfinished, like that song about Strolling he thought up years ago. Wait, that song! It wasn't new to him, but to everyone else, it was brand new! It was fresh! "Just let me lay down one tune for you, Maestro. Please. I'm begging you."

"...Fine." Sebastian nodded to the stage. "One chance. If I don't like it, you're out."

K.K. remembered Brewster's words. "If you put it in your heart...you'll always be onstage..."

This was his stage.

"Strolling along in the daylight, with no care,

Not one care in the whole world, it's just you and me..."

Sebastian's ears perked up. What was this genre? It was new. It was fresh. It was...something, he felt, only this dog could do. And by the time the Tute realized this, the song was about to end.

"...When the sky is bright blue, I always think, always think fond mem'ries of you."

"Bravo! Whoa ho ho! Marvelous! It's like nothing I've ever heard before! You have yourself a record deal!"

The only problem was there was nowhere to sell his records. Fortunately, a pink...well, K.K. didn't know what he was, but he looked awfully funny...and not funny...at the same time...anyways, Dr. Shrunk opened a comedy club, and K.K. performed there every night, thanks to Shrunk's begging. K.K. became a DJ, and his songs gained popularity once again. The same kid who sold him the fortune cookie opened up a shop called T.I.Y., and K.K. sold his songs there, letting his music finally roam free.

The first House mix in Club LOL was being held, and everyone came to dance...even Tom Nook, who, after some well-placed ice cubes prompted him to do so, busted some rather funky moves that night. Brewster even came, since his new Café was doing so well, he offered refreshments to tired dancers (particularly the bushed raccoon). Brewster was overjoyed to see K.K. so popular. He only hoped K.K. remembered who he was...

"All right, cats and kittens," K.K. shouted over the mic, "we got a new band about to jam! This one's for an old friend! Hit it, gyroids!"

Gyroids! That was right up Brewster's al-

"Dekkoid!"

...What was that?

"Dekkoid!"

...It couldn't be! It was Brewster's...

"Dekkoid!"

K.K. never got rid of it...and the canine flashed a friendly smile at Brewster. For the first time in public, Brewster smiled the biggest smile he could. And also for the first time in public...he strutted to the middle of the dance floor...and DANCED.

He popped it.

He locked it.

He slid this way.

He slid that way.

He made the chicken funky.

He ran as the man.

He struck a pose.

And when he did it, he was at the stage, in his heart. K.K. was at the roost in his. And they both found a home that night...all thanks to Timmy's fortune cookie recipe.

* * *

I could get used to writing these oneshots. I got some more basic ideas. Maybe about three. Redd'll be hard, though. Don't know if I can do him right away.


	4. Some story about Isabelle and a Mayor

STORY 4: Someone oneshot about Isabelle and a Mayor

and also Fuchsia

"OK, all done! Have a nice day." And then she woke up. She didn't have to check her surroundings. She knew where she was. She was in the town hall. Again.

Certainly, a daily routine like hers would get boring to the normal individual...paperwork, standing in one spot, helping the mayor...but not to this girl. The mayor thought she had somehow brainwashed herself to love her job. The mayor loved his, but he was so...free. Isabelle was locked up in here all of the time.

The poor, youthful mayor tried everything to get her less busy, such as relentlessly talking to her after each brief, daily visit to the town hall. The poor kid got the same response every time. She got flustered, and she said she could only talk to him during business hours behind the desk...when DID business hours end, anyway? She never knew, so she hardly ever left. One never knows when the mayor might need her. The mayor didn't really have a schedule.

Once the mayor was first appointed, he was as excited...and awkward...as could be. He talked to Isabelle maybe fifteen times a day each week to get advice...and a free bug net. She was his secretary...his little helper. Isabelle loved being able to be so helpful...although maybe she shouldn't have sold him that bug net.

Then that day came.

The mayor, hair messed up and dirt all over his clothes, stumbled into the town hall. "Hello, Mr. Mayor!" Isabelle chimed. "You look like you've worked hard. Why don't you take a little break?" The mayor nodded with glee and motioned for her to follow him. "Oh, I'd love to! Maybe we can walk by the beach and...oh...well, I have some paperwork I need to take care of. But you can go! Also, it would make me really happy if you'd pick me up a seashell as a souvenir of your little trip there..." and he was gone. Probably didn't even hear her. Poor thing was worked to death.

"...and thus this is why he would be a benefit to our town. There!" she panted as she saved and printed out the document. All that had to be done now was send it in... "Oh! Mr. Mayor!" she gasped as he strolled in, hair still a bit unkempt but clothes clean. "How was your visit to the beach? It's a very peaceful...oh!" Isabelle gasped again as a conch shell was placed on her desk. It was a little wet, but better wet than sandy. "It-It's beautiful! You didn't have to do this...but I appreciate it! You have my thanks, Mr. Mayor!" And he grinned from ear to ear.

Isabelle was almost in tears from the excitement she was experiencing. "MAYOR! YOU'VE DONE IT!" She squealed as the mayor's popularity ranking finally went to 100%. A pink deer named Fuchsia moved in that very day and the mayor, Isabelle could tell, was absolutely smitten with her. It didn't take long until she told Isabelle that he was "a pretty cool mayor," and finally got that last 3% in. But after that day, Isabelle noticed she was seeing less and less of the mayor. Sure, he popped in every now and then and, with her trusty aid, placed new public works projects or changed ordinances. The town was getting very close to perfection. And the closer it got, the less mayor there was.

Fuchsia seemed to be getting an awful lot of attention through the winter. She was in bed with a cold, and the mayor, despite how contagious she warned him it was, stuck with her for most of the time. Who knew he could make soup taste so good? Isabelle almost wished SHE had a cold, and he was making HER soup. But that was selfish. Isabelle was HIS secretary. Her pay and her seashell was her thanks. And she paid herself. He looked thankful, but he never really told her. She felt a bit hurt any time he'd run out.

Valentine's Day finally came, and Isabelle, who had just woken up as we previously mentioned, and with her extra spare time she found herself having, made a chocolate cake just for the mayor. Her mayor. Who still hasn't said a word to her since that stupid golden watering can went into his stupid hands so he could keep the stupid town perfect...oh, she didn't mean that! He's a good mayor...but her feelings were hurt. Maybe this would finally get his attention. Sneaking outside at 5AM, the nervous pup snuck the cake into his mailbox. The WHOLE thing. Not even a slice for herself. Because HE got all the good stuff. She didn't mean that!

Peering inconspicuously from the town hall window, she could see the mayor exit his house, holding some stuff behind his back and dashing towards Fuchsia's house. Isabelle couldn't take it. What did she ever do for him besides that extra 3%? Isabelle gave him the first 97% by his listening to her advice. She had to hear what would happen. It wouldn't be respectful...but she had to know if her intuition was right.

Isabelle pressed her ear against the door, using her superior canine hearing to decipher the conversation.

"Whoa, dude, is that for me?" she heard the deer say. "Thanks, but...I just...for reasons I won't get into, Valentine's Day just isn't my thing, OK? I...oh...a poem, too...uh...oh..."

"Well, read it out loud, you goof!" Isabelle muttered. Oops! She didn't mean that!

Fuchsia was sweating now, her cheeks pinker than her fur. Not only that, but she was hyperventilating, which the mayor figured was not a good sign. Was it that bad. "I-I can't, man, I'm sorry! I just...no, go away, OK? I gotta go fix somethin'..." and she slammed the door. In his face. The mayor dragged his hybrid tulips that he spent months on breeding and ate a few chocolates to calm him down before throwing both items into the trash can he funded. He thought about climbing in there himself, since that's what he felt like anyway. He instead decided he'd just go home, check his mail, and cry in bed for a bit.

Isabelle was sad for him. Part of her was saying that his efforts to be close to someone were as pointless as hers, but another part just cried for him inside. Isabelle went back to her paperwork, not noticing the mayor pulling out a chocolate cake and beaming at his valentine from Isabelle.

The mayor came in and set the cake at the desk, going around and hugging Isabelle. A hug. He always wanted to embrace the adorable canine...ever since day one...but was never brave enough. Hm. Brave enough to run a town but not hug someone. Mercy. But while he was at it, he may as well break his silent reputation and say, "Thanks, Isabelle." And so he did.

Isabelle was shocked. Did she actually just hear that "thank you" she always wanted? And was she being hugged? She hasn't been hugged by anyone that wasn't her brother since she moved to town! Would it be professional to hug back? She was still on the clock! ...But why would he protest? And so they hugged each other. And they ate cake. And apologized for what they didn't do. And they became closer than they ever were before.


	5. Booked

Today was the day.

Today was the day he would become a Pup Scout.

Rufus "Booker" Lausenfaund was thrilled...perhaps more thrilled than he had ever been in his life. He wasn't very popular back home due to his shyness. He was so quiet and clumsy, people thought he couldn't do anything...even his own parents saw him as a failure. But today, he was going to make a start to make something of himself. He'd have badges, medals...maybe even a friend...

As Booker walked in the gates of Camp Pup Scouts, he took in a deep whiff of air. Unfortunately, a fly happened to be buzzing around his nose at the time, and the pup ended up choking on it. A nearby canine rushed over and quickly gave Booker a good slap on the back. Out went the fly, but then he lost his wind! Struggling for breath, Booker let out a faint "Th-th-thanks..." as he regained what little composure he had.

"No problem, future fellow Pup Scout! What's your name? My name's Copper!"

"Um...my name is...R-Rufus...oh! But my nickname is...um...Booker...it's because I like reading books...and no one else appreciates it. O-oh! I'm sorry if that offends you! I'll be more careful I guess..."

"Offended? No! Reading is incredibly admirable! That's adult talk for 'really, really cool', by the way," Copper confided. "I'm gonna be a grownup soon! I'm gonna be a police dog just like my dad!"

"Police? Oh, really? That sounds...um...fun..." Booker said.

"It is! It's the most amazing job in the whole wide world! Did you know that one of the first policemen in my village..." and Copper rambled on.

Eventually, Booker mentally woke up in an office where Booker received the important keys to his YELLOW-roofed cabin in CAMP E. And apparently, Copper was his roommate. Okiedokie, then. Booker needed to stop daydreaming! He's living his dream now. He needn't space out anymore.

The two got along well over the first two months, according to Copper. Booker hardly got a chance to speak up at any time. Copper was very authoritative, and assumed Booker already agreed with him when he came up with an idea. Booker didn't mind...he had a friend, and Copper hadn't publicly embarrassed him too much yet. Booker, fortunately, hadn't embarrassed Copper either.

UNfortunately, Copper had taken up the role of camp police. Booker was pretty sure such a job was already taken by adults, and he was even more certain one couldn't just proclaim one was an important individual without proving it. Booker knew that for certain. He almost convinced everyone in his class he was the president of the United States, but that statement was ignored after his teacher had notified Booker that he was too young to be President, and demanded to take her to the White House to prove it. Didn't work out.

Booker tried to share this bit of information to Copper, but he wouldn't have a word of it. Copper had eventually started becoming a bit of a tattle-tale, even to the point where he would spy on the adults and tattle on the officials themselves. Copper and Booker, who was often associated with Copper by default, were public enemies at the campgrounds. One night, the leaders joined forces and banished the dogs for the rest of the week to their cabin. That dark and gloomy night, Copper led the way as Booker stayed behind to do some thinking.

But when Booker looked up, the cabin they approached didn't look like theirs at all. Booker may not have night vision, but he could've sworn that roof was clearly green. The shape of the cabin looked similar, but even the mailbox was a different color. The cabin itself seemed a lighter shade of brown. Was Copper...

"Booker, look! The lights are on!" he whispered as he pointed to the windows whose shutters were clearly not the same color as theirs. Little shadows were moving around in the light. "Intruders! Quick, follow me! We'll peek through the window!" And Copper ran off towards the side of the cabin, Booker hesitantly following him. Could Copper be colorblind? This charade of his could get them both in big trouble! He had to say something...anything! "U-uh, C-C-Copper? I really don't think this is our cabin..."

"Oh, of course it is! You think I don't know my own way to the cabin?"

"W-well, I think OUR cabin is a different color. These people probably live here, I think. We should just l-leave them al-alone, Copper."

Copper turned around and stood nose to nose with Booker. "First you say I don't know my way around the cabin I've been in for two whole MONTHS," growled the canine, "and NOW you're saying you want to just chicken out and let these intruders take over our cabin?"

Booker, shaking in his fur, swallowed and replied with all of the courage he could muster, "...They aren't thieves. Y-You're wrong."

With all of the force Copper had in him, he slammed Booker down onto the ground. "FINE!" he barked. "See if I care! I'll deliver justice by myself! I don't need a coward like you to be my deputy!"

"B-But you aren't a r-real policeman!" Booker shouted back, truly angry for the first time in his life. "I-I can't be friends with anybody. People just use me like you do. Am I the only one who just wants people to like me for who I am? I-I don't need to do some heroic d-d-deed to be a good friend or an admirable p-person," Booker cried. "I came h-here so I could make s-something of myself so people would think of me as a real person, but if the people in the w-world are like YOU, I don't want to waste my time trying to be fr-friends with them."

Speechless, Copper stared shocked at him. He turned around and began to climb up on boxes to reach the window. Booker ran away in tears to his own cabin, not looking back as Copper ducked to avoid broken glass and a vase flying above his head. Running for his life, the canine jumped into a lake of water. He forgot he couldn't swim. Booker heard his cries for help and, although he was still in tears, ran over to the lake. Doggie paddling over to him, Booker, dragged Copper out of the pool of water. "Y-you saved my life," Copper slurred. "I-I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I just...I just wanted to be like my dad...*sniff*..." And the two shared an emotional embrace.

...

She broke up with him. Surprise, surprise.

Booker just couldn't seem to find a girl that worked for him. They either wouldn't give him the time of day or "find someone better" without realizing who they really had. He felt so used. He always felt so used.

He was riding on a train to nowhere, telling all of his problems (the best he could) to a blue-furred cat. The blue-furred cat listened intently, trying to offer advice Booker wasn't brave enough to use. But if there was anything the blue cat knew about travelers, it was that they weren't content with where they were. And Booker was certainly a discontented fellow.

Stepping off of the train, Booker wandered towards his new house, which he fortunately was able to pay for in full already. Avoiding as many animals as he could on the way, he noticed a gray building that looked like a giant can beside his house. Curious, Booker peered inside.

"Yes, that would be a...gold econo-chair you're-"

"Don't you lie to me, you dirty little cop!" bleated the elderly goat. This ain't gold! This is clearly a JADE econo-chair, and I KNOWS MAH ECONO-CHEERS! First the mayor says he's gonna build a new bridge when we get 15 rezeedints, and now this! You're all a buncha liars! LIARS, I tells ya!" And the goat hobbled out. Booker, too curious, walked inside, amazed at who the policeman was.

"C-Copper..."

"Booker!" Copper ran over to him and embraced him. "Oh, thank goodness you're here! I can't take this job anymore! I can handle being out there but this lost-and-found business...I just can't do it! I've been told I can get contacts to correct this color-blindness of mine, but they say it could take 10 to 12 YEARS before they're ready for the general public! Please, Booker, I'm on my metaphorical knees, PLEASE help us! We NEED your good eyes! Most dogs can't see color like you can! I don't know what in the world the difference between yellow and green even IS! Please! PLEASE! Justice NEEDS you! I need you!"

How could Booker refuse to that?


End file.
